Chapter 40: The Lie

 

The atmosphere in the Sterling Villa was suffocating. Richard Vance sat in the library, holding a sealed envelope. His hands were shaking slightly. Isabella stood by the window, examining her nails, looking bored. But her heart was pounding against her ribs like a trapped bird.

Sebastian and Harper sat opposite Richard. Harper sat straight, her hands clasped in her lap. She wasn't nervous about the result—she knew the truth now. She was nervous about how this would change everything.

"Open it, Dad," Isabella said lazily. "Let's get this over with so we can kick the impostor out."

Richard glared at his daughter, then tore open the envelope. He pulled out the document. Paternity Test Report. Subject A: Richard Vance. Subject B: Harper Evans.

He scanned down to the bottom of the page. Conclusion: Based on the genetic markers analyzed, the probability of paternity is 0.00%. The alleged father is excluded as the biological father of the child.

Richard froze. He read it again. And again. The hope that had lit up his eyes for the past two days vanished instantly, replaced by a deep, dark abyss of disappointment.

"Zero," Richard whispered. His voice sounded old and tired.

Isabella let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. She walked over and snatched the paper. "See?" She waved it in Harper’s face. "Zero percent! I told you, Dad! She's just a greedy little liar who researched our family history to scam you!"

Harper stared at the paper. "That's impossible," she said calmly. "The test is wrong."

"Wrong?" Isabella laughed shrilly. "This is from the best lab in the country! Science doesn't lie, Harper. But you do."

Richard stood up slowly. He wouldn't look at Harper. He felt humiliated. He had actually believed her. He had let himself vulnerable, thinking he had found Catherine's child. And it was all a lie.

"Mr. Vance," Harper stood up too. "Please, listen to me. My mother left me a box. She has letters..."

"Enough!" Richard roared. It was the first time he raised his voice. "I don't want to hear anymore stories! I don't want to see any fake letters!"

He looked at Harper with cold, dead eyes. "You have the same eyes as her. I thought... I thought it was a miracle. But you are just using a dead woman's memory to get my money." "You disgust me."

Harper felt like she had been slapped. Her own father—the man she had just discovered was her flesh and blood—was looking at her with pure hatred.

"Dad, let's go," Isabella grabbed Richard's arm, smirking triumphantly at Harper. "We shouldn't stay in a house that harbors con artists. Sebastian, I'm disappointed you let her fool you."

She guided the broken old man toward the door.

Harper stood there, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw the rusty box at them. But she didn't. She wouldn't beg for recognition from a man who trusted a piece of paper over his own heart.

"Wait."

A low, dangerous voice cut through the room. Sebastian.

He rolled his wheelchair forward, blocking the library door. His face was a mask of icy rage.

"Move, Sebastian," Isabella snapped.

"No one calls my fiancée a liar in my house," Sebastian said softly. He looked at the report in Isabella's hand. "Give me that."

"Why? It's trash," Isabella tried to hide it behind her back.

"Give. It. To. Me." Sebastian didn't shout, but the command in his voice made Isabella flinch. She handed it over.

Sebastian glanced at the report. He didn't look at the result. He looked at the timestamp and the lab technician's signature.

"Dr. Miller," Sebastian read the name. "Interesting."

He looked up at Isabella. His eyes were like X-rays, peeling back her lies. "Dr. Miller lost his medical license in two states for falsifying drug trials. He currently works out of a private clinic funded by... let me check..." He pulled out his phone and tapped a few times. "...The Vance Charity Foundation. Which you manage, Isabella."

Isabella’s face went white. "That... that's a coincidence!"

"Is it?" Sebastian smirked. It was a terrifying smile. "And isn't it a coincidence that the sample was processed in 2 hours? A standard paternity test takes 48 hours minimum for this level of accuracy."

He ripped the report in half. Riiiip. The sound echoed in the silent room.

"This paper," Sebastian threw the pieces at Isabella's feet, "is garbage."

"Sebastian!" Richard looked confused. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," Sebastian looked his uncle-in-law (future father-in-law) in the eye. "That your daughter is afraid. She's afraid of losing her inheritance. So she cheated."

"How dare you!" Isabella screamed. "Dad, he's lying! He's protecting her!"

"There is an easy way to settle this," Sebastian said calmly. He turned to Harper. "Harper, go get the box."

Harper nodded. She ran upstairs and came back with the rusty metal box. She placed it on the desk.

"Mr. Vance," Harper said, her voice trembling but strong. "You don't have to believe me. But you should believe Catherine."

She opened the box. The smell of old paper and lavender wafted out. On top lay a stack of letters, tied with a blue ribbon. And the photo.

Richard walked over, his steps heavy. He looked into the box. He saw the handwriting. My dearest Richard...

He gasped. He knew that handwriting. He had kept every note she ever wrote him for thirty years.

He picked up the photo of the baby. He turned it over. My little Harper. My masterpiece. 1995.

Richard’s knees gave out. He collapsed into the armchair, clutching the photo to his chest. Tears streamed down his wrinkled face.

"It's true," he sobbed. "It's really true..."

He looked up at Harper. The hatred was gone, replaced by overwhelming grief and love. "You... you are my daughter."

Isabella stood in the corner, watching her world crumble. "No..." she whispered. "This can't be..."

Sebastian rolled over to Isabella. "You lost, Isabella," he whispered, so only she could hear. "Now get out of my house. Before I call the police for fraud."